Flambards in War
by GuitarGirl97
Summary: An alternative to the 3rd book in the Flambards series. It is 1914 and the First World War has just begun, affecting thousands of lives throughout Europe. William, newly recruited to the Royal Flying Corps, is flying reconnaissance missions over the French battlefields, leaving an anxious Christina worrying for his safety. Can happiness be found during the turbulent times of war?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I am not K.M Peyton. If I were, William would have survived the war and lived a long happy life with his aeroplanes and Christina, still oblivious to her fear of flying and happily being logical and grumpy and...and...*SOB***

**Author Note: ****Hello all! I realised after receiving a (very lovely) review from neverwithoutyou on my story 'Her Beloved William' that it has been almost a year since I decided (and stated) that I would be doing a full length Flambards fic. All I have to say in my defence for this dreadful procrastination is "oops".**

**It has been a very busy year, with scary exams and tonnes of boring revision, but now that I am free for the summer I have decided I will start the full-length fic! Because I have another story already on the go- and because I made myself a promise (which I am currently breaking) that I would never have two full-length fics to worry about at one time- I have no idea how often updates to this story will be. Because this story is my alternative to the third book it may have some parts that are quite similar. There are also parts that I am undecided upon, such baby Isobel and Tizzy and other characters who I obviously love (especially Isobel!) because part of me feels they belong to Christina's life without William. This is why I am now pleading with you, possible readers;**

**If you have any opinions on the inclusion of certain events/characters from the third and fourth books please do tell me through a PM or reviews. Also, if there is something you would really like to see happen- for (a bad) example, Christina manages to drag William to a horse show and she catches him baby talking a horse- please do tell me and I will write it into the story. Because I am one of the William fans, I intend to include many fluffy flashbacks to Edge of the Cloud times, so if anything you would really like to see happen does occur from previous times it doesn't matter. **

**Wow. Large author note. Sorry about that! :-) If by any chance you are still here (and haven't fallen asleep or gone away in boredom) then here is the story. **

_**Prologue- The First Goodbye**_

It was late September and already the air had become saturated with the usual damp, mouldy, autumnal smells. Gone were the days of summer heat, of summer breezes that teased the green leaves and bright flowers, of warm sunshine and open blue skies as soft as silk. Although most trees were still clinging grimly onto their leafy crowns, the ground was already strewn with the fallen foliage, a carpet of golds, reds, oranges and browns. It was stunning at first, seeing the grey of the cobbles become awash with colour, but after a light burst of rain the allure was gone. Now the people of Kingston walked with a squelch underfoot; not even the children, who had been delighted at the piles to run round and jump into, could quite face the idea of leaping into those slimy leaves.

Christina didn't usually take such notice of the weather, of the seasons passing. As a child, she had been far too occupied with other things, mostly trying to listen to the conversations of her various Aunts and Cousins or creeping to the bureau in order to steal glances at their letters to each other. She had never done such things with the intent to be nosey- she couldn't have cared less as to whether Cousin Jessica had bought a new hat, or if Aunt Maggie was fretting about the possibility of rain next Tuesday. But those letters and hushed conversations had been the only way for Christina to try and stay atop of her constant movement around the family. Passed around like baggage, with more than a slight suspicion that she was a pain and a nuisance to whoever was next given the task of being her guardian, Christina had been understandably anxious as to what her future might entail.

Besides, in the bustling heart of London, it didn't matter if it were the height of summer or the coldest day of winter; there was still soot and grime, still armies of sullen faced factory girls, still bad language from the jostling apprentice boys and that constant low rumble of trains and metal horse shoes on cobbles.

At Flambards she had been more conscious of the seasons and the changing weather, but even then she had never been an idle spectator, glancing out of her bedroom window and just happening to notice that the sun was encouraging the first blossom. The seasons dictated when hunting began and ended, and after that the weather had decided for her whether she ought to give in and go for a ride with Mark, or if she could get away with yet another day with William and the eccentric Mr Dermot. Flying days, she recalled being told, were days when the wind was gentle and obliging and when the air was calm and clear.

Even now, Christina didn't care so much about the weather. But it was not for herself that she had peered anxiously at the sky each morning for the last three days, both wanting and dreading gale force winds and torrential rain. Half of her, the mature and resigned half, quietly hoped that the conditions would keep and that the air would remain perfect for flying, so that when William did take off tomorrow morning and set out for the channel and France he would be as safe as possible. But how was she ever supposed to want such weather when it would only make William's departure easier?

Christina had known that this day would come. Though she had tried to ignore it, ever since the day Britain had declared war on Germany, Christina had known it was coming. She had buried it deep in her mind throughout the summer, wanting nothing more than to savour the happiest times of her life. During her wedding and honeymoon, Christina had continually been scared that she must have been dreaming, for those warm sunny days had been perfect- the best days of her life. How cruel it was that it was only when she was at last within reach of all she had ever dreamed that it must now be taken away from her, and so forcefully too. Within days of returning from their honeymoon William had been thrown headfirst into war business, mainly due to the fact he had enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps and was one of a surprising few who could already fly proficiently.

Christina knew she couldn't feel too bitter, for it was William's enthusiasm that had made him hurry through the training procedures. Having already acquired well over the needed 20 flying hours to go solo, the only element of his training that William could not hurry was the classroom taught theory. But, both to Christina's pride and utter horror, after a week William was sent back to Kingston because the instructor had discovered that William's knowledge surpassed his own.

"He said that there was not a lot of point in me being there, as I knew more than he did." William had explained to her laughingly, after taking her by surprise upon appearing before her reception desk several weeks earlier than expected. "It's dreadful really, Christina, if you think about it. Fatalities just from training are regular- how they think they'll be able to fly in France if they can't even land without 2 miles to get her down, I don't know. I should have joined up earlier; the existing squadrons are already active in France."

Christina had looked hard at her husband after hearing that remark, searching for any trace of sarcasm, though she knew she wouldn't find it. Such an eagerness to rush to battle, to chance with death, both appalled and terrified her. Flying at Elm Park had seemed dangerous enough- but flying over battlefields?! Had he somehow forgotten that there would be guns pointed at him, other aeroplanes charged with the task of battling in the skies?

"Well, I'm sorry that our wedding caused such a problem for you." she had eventually managed to retort lightly, making him grin at her. "You really should have mentioned something; you should have told me that it clashed with the start of a world war. A wedding is hardly important anyway, not compared to-"

But then he had kissed her, right in front of all the staff and clients in the hotel reception, not caring that when Dorothy walked past she made a suggestive remark and made the nearest porter snigger with laughter. And that was another reason why Christina could not truly be bitter that her husband was flying off to France to chance with death and leave her lonely for months at a time- he was so happy to be flying with real purpose, and she would not shatter that for the world.

Before the war, Christina had dreamt that after they married, she and William would find a pretty little house somewhere and live quite happily together, with William still flying and designing aeroplanes and she still working at the hotel for Mr Saunders. But on their honeymoon, when William's intentions to join the RFC were unavoidably clear, they had decided that it would be best if Christina continued to stay in the hotel.

"I don't want you to be lonely. Dorothy is at the hotel- perhaps it would be best if you stayed there too, just until we know where we stand with the war and everything else that is likely to change." William had sounded wretched to suggest it, but Christina didn't mind as much as she thought she would, so she had soon managed to convince him that even though not ideal, it was for the best.

William was still renting the rooms he had shared with Sandy, and had been intending to do so until he left for France, so when he was sent home early from the RFC school to await further instruction Christina had decided she would stay with him in those small but cosy rooms. They spent two blissful weeks together doing absolutely nothing, going out and about on a whim, spending hours curled up together in the big armchair just talking and laughing. It had been perfect, and a slightly depressing indication as to what could have been their life had the leaders of Europe not decided to fall out and start a war.

And then, three days ago, William had received a letter saying that he had been posted and he would be flying out to France from an RFC mechanics airfield at 8am- tomorrow.

Oh you fool, Christina told herself harshly as she frantically wiped at yet more tears which had slipped down her face without her even noticing as she stared out of the window and up at the sky, you shouldn't be crying- you should be enjoying this last day, this last moment of normality before everything really does change.

"Christina?" William's voice made her turn around quickly, forgetting to ensure that the last of the tears were gone from her face. She saw in his eyes immediately that she must look wretched, because suddenly his expression became soft and sad. "Oh, don't cry, not yet. You've still got me for today."

"I know." She replied thickly, taking his hand and walking beside him as they left the flat and began to make their way down the usual route, passing the little row of shops and crossing the cobbled road to reach the grassy banks of the river. In summer, the river had been dotted with boats and the banks filled with families on picnics, the sound of children playing and adults laughing fondly filling the air. Now, in the colder autumn wind, there were fewer people but the river was still flowing and the trees were still keeping guard, their golden leaves falling onto the water's surface, replacing the boats of summer. "But it's...it's not enough. You'll be gone for months- what am I supposed to do without you?"

She didn't add her fears for his safety, because the last time she had openly fretted about the risks he had become exasperated and moody. He doesn't understand how worried he makes me, she thought sadly as William looked out over the leaf strewn river and sighed, he doesn't comprehend that a life without him is of very little value to me at all.

"There will be plenty to do, I'm sure. Time will fly, Christina. And I'll write to you- I'll write to you whenever I am able." He stopped by the water's edge and looked down at the murky current, smiling suddenly. "Do you remember, a while ago, when we took Sandy's car out along that dusty track and we found those fishes that turned over onto their backs?"

"Yes. You told me I was silly because I didn't believe aeroplanes could do the same." Christina found a wry smile for him, gently slipping her arm through his. "You invited me to fly the channel with you in the Bleriot. Then you gave me a driving lesson and I was so terrible that you couldn't stop laughing at me."

"Ah, yes." William smothered another chuckle now at the memory, so Christina swatted him gently on the arm. "See, Christina. We've had some very good times, and there are good times to come. This war, although a nuisance now, will make the world finally accept the importance of flying machines. And once they've seen what they can do, flying will become big business. There'll be demand for designers, for machines with sophisticated design and purpose, not just for a few rich gentlemen joyriding round the countryside. This will be good for us, Christina, you must understand that?"

"Oh, yes I do." She nodded slightly, her voice not betraying her for once. Though inside she was trembling and terrified, wanting to shake William and ask him what would happen if he did not make it through the war, her exterior remained unchanged. It would be just the same as the early days at Elm Park- hiding the truth and getting on with it. "It will be the loneliness, I think, that will upset me most of all. Dorothy will love having me free of any other commitment, but I fear there is only so much shopping and flirting I can take."

William burst out laughing and Christina had to join in. From then on in the day, Christina tried to push her worries and her anxious fretting far out of her mind. Clutching onto William's hand, they walked alongside the river, faces turning pink with the sting of the autumn wind, laughing at each other when leaves and other debris caught in their hair or around their clothing. When a leaf hit William right in the face, Christina burst out laughing and then had to run as fast as she could along the soggy grass as he chased her, shrieking happily.

"Come back, idiot child!" William called after her, trying to sound threatening but failing as he burst out laughing, watching her give a reckless grin before toppling over and landing on the muddy grass. "Aha, I've got you now!"

But then he slipped too, and they ended up sprawled in the mud and soggy grass, clothes coated and faces smeared with the stuff. Christina wasn't sure why, exactly, but the feeling of being wet and grassy and looking like a complete idiot was, in that moment, truly glorious. Oh you fool, her mind seemed to scold, but she simply could not stop herself from laughing. When William sat up with a slightly bewildered look on his face, pulling clods of grass out of his hair, she began to laugh even harder.

"I don't know why you're laughing, Mrs Russell; you're filthy!" he said in a haughty tone, as if he were offended. His dark eyes were sparkling, like black diamonds, a stark contrast against the bone white skin of his face. Christina reached out to touch his cheek, struck by the fact that after 8am tomorrow morning she would not see those beautiful eyes for...well. Who knew how long he would be kept in France? "Your blouse is ruined with mud and grass stains- what sort of receptionist goes rolling around in wet grass with madman in broad daylight?"

"On the contrary, Mr Russell, what sort of soldier would take advantage of a vulnerable young woman in such an appalling manner?" Christina giggled, prodding him on the shoulder.

"Ah, Mrs Russell, I'm not a total barbarian. I always take the young women I roll around in the grass with out to dinner afterwards." He grinned, getting up from where he had slipped and fallen and grimacing as he saw just how badly his trousers were covered in mud stains and wet grass. "I'm already imagining the horrified stares we're going to receive going back through Kingston. They'll think we're utterly mad." He paused and suddenly a look of horror dawned on his face, his eyes going wide in horror as he hastily helped Christina scramble up from the ground. "Oh, no! There's Aunt Grace- and Dorothy!"

"What! Where?!" Christina could already feel a hot blush springing to her face as she whirled around and tried to pick all the twigs and foliage out of her hair. She frantically scanned the path which was just visible from where they stood, looking for her likely to be horrified Aunt and the no doubt delighted Dorothy. "I can't see them- have they already gone?"

But when she turned round again, to demand an answer, she found that William was in a fit of hysterics. It took a moment for Christina to realise that- to her complete amazement and confusion- William had been teasing. Christina had never seen William in such a childish mood- first the falling over, then the joking and now this?! With a cold twist in her stomach, she realised that this odd behaviour of his was coming from excitement- excitement to be off tomorrow, to be flying and fighting for King and Country. It took every ounce of strength in Christina not to let the tears spring to her eyes, stupid tears she knew she ought to have overcome, but tears all the same.

"William Russell, you bad man! You scared me half to death!" she exploded, outrage dripping from every syllable. "How on Earth are you going to redeem yourself? I honestly thought I was going to have to explain to Aunt Grace why i was out and about, covered in grass and mud!"

"I'm sorry." He smiled, softly, and took her hand again. "I'll make it up to you, later..."

The rest of the day was spent happily, and when 'later' arrived, William did redeem himself. But the unavoidable fact that this was the last day before months of separation, the last day before William was chancing with death daily, still loomed over Christina and although she could hold it in and hide it whilst conscious, her subconscious was vulnerable, weak and had no way of fighting her fear.

It was past midnight, completely dark and almost silent save the occasional owl giving an echoing, melancholy cry into the night, or the wind whistling its way through the few leaves that were left on the trees, when her subconscious lost that fight. Christina awoke with a start, a frightening jolt as realisation and horror shattered what had been the sweet subconscious state of sleep. Her face was shiny with sweat, her body too, so that her nightgown clung to her in such an uncomfortable manner she began to feverishly pluck at the material, trying to get some air to her burning skin.

Slowly, she sat up in the darkness and pulled the bed sheets up to her chin, already beginning to rock herself a little as a few hot tears escaped and dribbled down her flushed face. In the darkness there was nothing to distract her, nothing to confirm that the horrid images she had seen were simply dreams- and they were such horrible, horrible dreams-!

_Christina was in a field. It was hot, very hot, and there were wildflowers everywhere. The sky was blue and the sun was bright, making everything seem as if it were grabbing her attention, her focus, leaving her feeling dizzy. She took a step into the swaying golden grasses and then she could see it and hear it- the plume of thick black smoke that was billowing into the blue sky, that deadly burning smell, of oil and flames and fire and danger. Why had she not seen it before? What if it was too late?_

_She began to run through the grass, not knowing why but understanding somehow that is was urgent, that she must run to this wreckage and find him- suddenly, the crumpled mass of wood, wires and fuselage fabric was before her, and she fell to her knees as all the breath left her body in one desperate, strangled sob. _

_It was William, mangled there in the wreckage, in a uniform and pilots helmet, clutching at his stomach where the material was dark and sodden with his blood. She reached out for him, pulled him onto her lap, where his head lolled and his eyes were barely open- as her tears splashed onto his face, he managed a smile for her. _

_She seemed to notice then where exactly she was- this wasn't some field in France, this was a field she knew so well, a field she had ridden and walked and watched from a window; this was Flambards! She didn't know why, but the realisation that it was Flambards where William had been shot down and was dying, crumpled like a discarded puppet, made it all so much worse._

"_I love you!" she sobbed over him, clutching at his face, trying to make him look at her. But his eyes were fixed upon the open blue sky, his smile for that open space above. "William look at me!"_

_But then she realised he was already dead, his once sparkling black eyes drinking up the open allure of that endless blue sky that held them all prisoner beneath it, never ending..._

Christina suddenly began to sob, quite uncontrollably, as the horror she had felt in her nightmare dawned upon her now and made her chest ache. She knew it was hysteria, making her behave so foolishly, but the violence of the tremors that shook her body and the relentless fury of her tears was terrifying. She buried her face in her hands and the bed sheets, trying to blot out those images, those horrific nightmares that had seemed so very real-

"Christina?"

Christina immediately cursed her idiocy, pressing her trembling fingers up against her mouth- William was bound to be angry with her, like last time, for all the unnecessary fuss and worrying. His voice was groggy and exhausted, as if he had been dragged from a deep sleep, so Christina was surprised when she heard the sheets rustling and felt his hands find her in the dark. Once he had found her, he sat up and pulled her gently towards him, so that she crumpled against his chest, her feeble tears now soaking into his shirt rather than dripping down her face. She was a mess- she had never lost her composure so badly in front of William before, and she felt so ashamed that when William began to stroke her hair she felt uncomfortable and almost wished he would stop.

"Sweetheart?" he asked again, his voice softer this time, still hazy with sleep but not as irritable or exhausted. "Whatever's the matter?"

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean to wake you." She murmured, her face flaming, and she felt him stiffen.

"Don't be so stupid. You don't need to apologise, you haven't done anything wrong." he sounded angered by that more than being woken up. "Now- what's wrong?"

"It...it was a dream." Christina managed to say calmly, before starting to cry again. "Oh, William, a horrible, horrible dream- it was so real that I...I honestly believed it!"

"Do you want to tell me about it? Would that make you feel any better?"

Christina hesitated, swallowing hot salty tears and wincing at the strange sensation. He must be able to guess, she thought wildly, he must know that there is only one thing I could possibly be so upset about. She knew that, in the dark, William was not going to push her away irritably or laugh at her for her silly fears. But she was still ashamed, ashamed that after so many years of hiding her fears and making him believe she was strong and capable, she was ruining it all by crying like an idiot after a silly nightmare.

"No- no, it's nothing, I'm-I'm being pathetic. Stupid." She took a deep calming breath and used the corner of the bed sheets to dry her eyes.

Though she couldn't see his face, she knew immediately from feeling his posture change that what she had said angered William. He moved slightly in the dark, reaching for something. Suddenly light pierced the darkness- he had switched on the gas lamp- and Christina was momentarily stunned by the sudden light before realising that William could now see what a complete and utter state she had worked herself into.

"You're not being stupid, so don't say that you are." He said firmly, tucking some damp strands of hair behind her ear and wiping away stray tears. "It's going to be difficult- things will change a lot over the next few months; heaven knows I'm not settled either. But you'll adapt, Christina, you always do. When we first ran away from the Hunt Ball, to London, I was terrified that I'd done the wrong thing, dragging you into a way of life I knew you were never truly comfortable with. But even though it was hard, and at times I was angry and preoccupied, by some miracle you still married me. You're strong, Christina- it's one of the things I love most about you. We're going to be just fine- I promise you."

"What is it that Sandy said to me? The human being can adjust to anything, given time?" Christina sniffed a little mournfully, and William smiled and gave a soft laugh at the memory.

"He was a funny man, was Sandy, but an intelligent one too." William agreed, and Christina nodded. "And he was entirely right in what he said. It's natural that you're anxious, sweetheart, but after you've experienced it once you'll see that it's not so bad."

"I'm still waiting for that realisation to come, having married you." she retorted quickly, already smiling and he laughed at her.

"Now. Do you feel as if you could go back to sleep?" he asked after a moment or so, and Christina nodded. William kissed her, lingering and soft, before turning out the light and wrapping his arms around her, somehow knowing that she would feel better for this constant comfort. "I love you, Christina, you do know that?"

"Yes." She said softly in the darkness, and found undisturbed and peaceful sleep in his arms.

It was those words, so unsure and tentative, that occupied Christina's mind as she stood in the cold morning air at the mechanics airfield, her eyes wandering as she took in the several aeroplanes lined up and ready to be flown. William had been standing beside her, waiting for instructions, but upon seeing a young mechanic bashing at something on the undercarriage with little success he had gone over to help, and was now thoroughly involved in the process. Seeing him on the ground next to the aeroplane like that, gorgeous in uniform and- in some ways- looking younger than his twenty years, Christina saw the eager and bright eyed boy who had stubbornly walked on his healing leg and hobbled his way to Mr Dermot's every day. It seemed too commonplace an image, William getting oily and involved with an aeroplane, to be occurring at such a time. She felt a silly and irrational sense of hope- she must have imagined the war, that her William was leaving her for so long, she had dreamed it all and soon she would be back in Kingston, with him by her side-

But suddenly, he was kissing her and saying goodbye, and climbing into a contraption that looked far too flimsy to be safe. There was the sound of mechanics and pilots, calling out to each other; "switch on!", "contact!", "there she goes, steady with the tail...". And then they were away into the grey autumn sky, some wobbling slightly as they first got into the air, but all determined and with no intention of turning back.

Christina watched them disappear into the horizon; it was a shattering sight, something she had known would occur for so long, but had not ever truly accepted as reality.

"The first goodbye is the hardest." She told herself firmly.

And then they were gone.

The sigh that escaped from her lips was caught by the autumn wind, the same wind that carried William and the other RFC boys to France. With one last look up to the grey sky above her, Christina turned away and walked back to where she had propped her bicycle, having had the foresight to bring it with her with William on the bus.

As she pedalled back to Kingston she felt an odd sense of hysteria within her at the fact she was utterly alone and that her husband, a man she had married not even two months ago in August when the world had been sunny and she had felt as if nothing could go wrong, was going to be gone for months- maybe even years. Not knowing whether to laugh at herself or to cry, she succumbed to both, before bending her head in the wind and continuing to pedal forwards in the cold morning air.

**P.S. Sorry, me again, it seems that the horrifically long author note wasn't enough :-). If you were wondering why Christina and William might have seemed at bit out of character at times in the prologue, it is because I have no idea how both of them would react to such a huge change in their lives. I thought that Christina would initially be very emotional and unable to cope, but eventually would become tough and resilient, just as she did at Elm Park in The Edge of the Cloud. William is altogether more tricky, because he hides his emotions quite a lot in the actual series, but I like to think that William does have all those emotional moments, he just doesn't share them with anyone. Christina should be less emotional and coping better next chapter.**

**Also, I have decided not to try and copy KM Peyton's style of writing in this fic. I did try it at first, but it was a real struggle and eventually I decided that as it is my own alternative 3****rd**** book, I should probably be alright with writing it in my own style. But, of course if you disagree, please tell me! **

**Sorry for all my rambling :-) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: ****I am not K.M Peyton. If I were, William would not have died!**

**Author Note:**** Hello again, sorry that this update has taken a long time. **

**Thank you so much to neverwithoutyou, a Guest and FanOfRandomThings for reviewing, it is very much appreciated! **

**I always wonder which of the three "suitors", for want of a better word, is the overall favourite amongst us Flambards fans. Whenever I look at Flambards fan sites on the internet I seem to find that the fiercest competition is between Mark and Dick, because William died so was effectively 'no longer an option'. **

**Therefore, simply because I am curious, I have two questions for anyone reading this;**

**Who is your favourite Flambards male? (Out of William, Mark and Dick I presume, although I have heard of people saying they thought Sandy and Christina would make a lovely couple!)**

**Are you a fan of the books, the TV series, or both?**

**I personally prefer William (of course!) and I read all the books before I had even heard that a TV series existed. I thought that the series was very good although I confess that I have never been able to watch past the end of 'Sing No Sad Songs' because William's death and what Christina says- I think it goes something like; "I keep thinking that if I put it back in the envelope and leave it for a while, the words will have changed. But it still says Captain William Russell, killed in action."- leaves me distraught.**

**So, I am curious as to what your opinions are!**

**Enough of me and my ridiculously long author note- onto the chapter.**

**One- A Surprise Meeting**

_**6 months later...**_

"Mrs Russell? Mrs Russell?!"

The sound of Mr Saunders' anxious voice sailed through the busy hotel foyer, and Christina tried to ignore it in favour of the customer on the other end of the telephone. The man she was speaking to had an extremely soft voice, and she could barely hear what he was saying already, let alone with the loud, dominant call of her employer resounding around the office. Valiantly, she clutched at the ear piece and scribbled down whatever she could on a scrap of paper, managing to smear the ink and ruining the spotless sleeve of her blouse.

"I'm terribly sorry Mr Anderson, but could you please repeat that?" she asked in her cheeriest of voices, even though she was despairing. Again, just as the man was repeating his request, Mr Saunders called out for her.

"Mrs Russell!"

Suddenly the man came barrelling around the corner, his eyes widening and his mouth opening as soon as he caught sight of her, but Christina held up a hand to gesture to the phone- Mr Saunders suddenly looked less irritable and nodded, waiting for Christina to say "thank you Mr Anderson, we will see you in two weeks" and place the phone back down before storming up to the desk and dumping a huge pile of official looking letters down onto the desk in front of her. Christina looked down at the pile, seeing the cold, formal type and instantly wondering why her employer had so many of these letters, or who they could be from.

"Mrs Russell." He spoke in such a tone that Christina could imagine he wanted to add the words 'at last' onto his no nonsense greeting, and she smiled at him, speaking before he could continue.

"Please, Sir, I wish that you would call me Christina."

Mr Saunders looked momentarily confused, before realising what she meant and laughing at the mistake.

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry about that. Only I thought you didn't mind, as you seem rather happy with that new title." He smiled kindly at her, and Christina nodded, glowing. It was true that whenever anyone called her 'Mrs Russell', or if she had to give her name 'Christina Russell', she was still filled with a warm sensation, reminding her that she was married to William. Though she had not seen him since he had left for France 6 months ago, she had his letters to keep her sane until he managed to get leave, and although she missed him so much it ached, a small part of her was secretly thrilled with their letter writing for there was something distinctly romantic about it. "How is your husband?"

"He is very well, thank you Sir. He told me that in the winter months it was bitterly cold and very unpleasant at times, but that now the weather is thawing it is considerably better." Christina adopted her usual tone for whenever anyone asked about William- a happy voice, one that did not hint at the nagging sensation of anxious worry that was always there whenever she thought about him, out in France. "Of course, he loves the flying. The military aeroplanes are far more sophisticated than the machines they all flew at Elm Park."

Christina felt a pang of something a little like homesickness when she mentioned the old aerodrome, the airfield upon which she had spent all of her free time, sitting in the cafe drinking tea or perhaps labouring away in the dusty, oily sheds with William. Even though flying had never been a passion of hers, as it had been for Will, Christina still recalled those carefree days fondly and with wistful hope that one day they might return to such an easy existence- when the biggest problems had been trying to fix the Bleriot quickly enough to appease the grouchy Mr Adams, or getting into trouble at the hotel for staying out too late, or even just persuading William to stop jabbering away about wing stresses and warp wires and fuselages so that he might actually get to drink his tea before it went stone cold.

Oh, how wondrous those carefree days had been. But easy going Sandy was dead, flirty Dorothy training to be a nurse and William fighting in France. Christina had to squeeze the firm wood of the desk just to ensure that she was firmly anchored in the present reality, not still drifting off into memories of the past.

"Ah, yes, indeed." Mr Saunders sounded brisk again, with the pleasantries over. "Now, Christina, I wanted to speak to you as we have a slight problem- firstly, how busy are we for all of this week?"

"We are not fully booked, Sir, but there are a fair number of rooms occupied." Christina frowned slightly as she checked her books, her eyes flitting back to the pile of important looking letters and wondering what they had to do with how many guests were staying with them. She hoped, in a perhaps unprofessional manner, that whatever this problem was it would not take long- Christina had an unopened letter from William tucked away in her pocket, for she was saving it until later, as she was very conscious that there was only an hour left of the working day. "May I ask why?"

"You certainly may. The fact is, Christina, that the army are passing through and as is their custom at the moment, they have _informed_ me that this hotel will house them for a few days." Mr Saunders bristled as he said the words- clearly he was not impressed by the fact he was being ordered around, or that such orders were coming at such short notice. "These letters- they are details, would you believe, regarding how many are staying. They will take up the whole hotel! We will have to send our guests to other hotels in the area, refund them for the days they lose- heavens, it is such bother!"

Christina picked up the pile of letters and felt her mouth slip open into a gape of astonishment- there were so many of them! She scanned over a few pages, slipping them aside, and then she saw a name she recognised and felt a peculiar sense of _nerves_ wash through her. There, in the emotionless typewriter font, was the name 'Dick Wright'.

"You will have to type up something we can give to all the guests at breakfast tomorrow, to tell them that we are terribly sorry but we simply cannot refuse the army. And later, before you close up the office, if you would type up a letter that I shall dictate so I may inquire into where on Earth we will deposit our poor guests..." Mr Saunders was continuing to rant about the annoyance of it all, and how the army had cheek to demand such liberties, but Christina was still fixated on the name on the letter.

She hadn't seen Dick for such a long time- she was certain that the last time she had seen him was during that dreadful fight with Mark, both of them tearing at each other like wild animals. He had been in uniform then, she recalled.

Just thinking of Dick like that made Christina remember other things too- how he had been so kind and gentle to her when teaching her to ride, how he had kissed her for that brief sweet moment in the dusty stables, but also of how he had looked as she stood watching him in his run down cottage- how his face had gone cold and emotionless, as if fighting not to show how embarrassed and angry and stupid he felt. I wonder if he knows that I am married, she thought idly before recalling that she had glimpsed him for a second at her wedding, outside the church by the headstones-

William had told her that Dick had been in love with her, at Flambards. Christina felt silly for even thinking it, but before she could stop it the thought flashed into her head- did he feel upset that she had married? Did he feel jealous, or angry, or hurt? Christina knew what a vain and foolish thing it was to wonder, so she mentally scolded herself and tried to pay attention to what Mr Saunders was saying.

"-so is that alright, Christina? You can do all that before you close up the office?" he asked her and she could not help but glance over at the clock in the far corner of the foyer- half an hour until she was allowed to leave her desk, her job over for the day. If she rushed it, she might even be finished in that half an hour, and then she would be free to read her letter from William.

"Yes, Mr Saunders. I will endeavour to do so quickly." She said, and there must have been a telltale sign in her tone or upon her face, for Mr Saunders also looked at the clock and laughed.

"Never mind about that letter of mine. Just type those apologetic notices for the customers and then you can close up." He smiled in a fatherly way- since Dorothy had left, Christina had become the recipient of his parental affection and she certainly didn't mind it, for it meant she received benefits such as these. "When is he due home, Christina?"

For one absurd moment, Christina thought Mr Saunders was referring to Dick. Then she realised that it was William he meant, and a stupidly sweet blush of happiness spread out upon her cheeks.

"I don't know, Sir, but I have a letter from him and I am hoping that he might have put in a request for leave, seeing as I suggested it in my last letter." She explained, unable to stop herself from grinning.

"Whenever he is home, Christina, you must tell me and I will give you the time off. You work so hard these days, and with Dorothy gone I fear I rely on you perhaps too heavily, demanding a lot from you."

"Oh, thank you Sir! And I do not mind- the responsibility is flattering."

"I'm glad to hear it. And you need not worry about how long you would be off for- my sister is imploring that I give my niece a position in the hotel so that she might become a little more independent, and whilst the girl is a complete ninny compared to you I'm sure that she could fill in whenever Mr Russell is home." Mr Saunders looked at the clock again and realised he had taken up another five minutes. Christina laughed at his apologetic expression. "Sorry, Christina, I will let you get on with it."

Christina assured him, laughing, that it did not matter. But the notices for the customers took far longer than expected, and even then the telephone kept ringing and she felt too guilty not to answer and endure the irritatingly tedious conversations with the customers who- just to spite her on this particular evening- seemed to not know what they wanted to ask so would leave her standing there listening to a hushed argument between husband and wife as they bickered over whether to arrive on a Wednesday or a Thursday. But, eventually, her work for the day was done. With a hurried goodnight to the night porter she closed up the desk and the office, running up the stairs two at a time and flinging herself down onto the dormitory type bed that inhabited the far side of her boring bedroom at the hotel, already fumbling for the letter with shaking fingers. Normally she would make herself leave the letter resting on the little table next to the bed until she was actually under the covers and surrounded by warm darkness, so that William's words were the last thing she read before drifting off to sleep, committing them to her memory. But this time she simply could not wait any longer.

The letter looked the same as always; in a small envelope, her name and address written on the front in William's neat handwriting, and again it struck her how utterly normal it looked- there was no indication that it William had written it in France where he was fighting a war.

She ripped it open and slid the letter out, unfolding it and feeling all the built up desperation and the ache of wanting to read it that had nearly sent her mad throughout the day suddenly disappear as she fell back into the blissful task of reading his words, already smiling just from the first sentence.

'_Dear Christina,_

_I hope you are well- I know that you said as much in your letter, but the army appears to be utterly useless at sending our letters on within a reasonable time frame, so I hope that you are still in the same state you were when you sent your last letter. In response to your question- and I am not allowed to say much, due to army censorship- yes my recent flying 'missions' have gone well._

_I know that you asked me to inquire about leave, but I'm afraid that I am reluctant to do so yet. We are busy at the moment- again, I cannot elaborate- and I think it would be wrong to ask to leave now when there is so much to do. The weather is marvellous, perfect for flying, and it would be pointless to go home now. _

_I managed to persuade a mechanic to let me look at my own aeroplane today and immediately I feared that the army is incapable of employing decent mechanics. The man, who is older than me by several years and claims to have extensive aviation experience, clearly knew nothing about the particular repair work needed and it is likely that he would have made a complete mess of it. But, Christina, I am routinely astonished by the standard of flying within our own men. They treat the machines like playthings, tugging on the tail when they're stationary, leaning against the side and jostling, even in landing they slam the poor thing down and wonder why the undercarriage is damaged. It makes me think of Mr Dermot, and Joe and Jack, and I wonder what they would say if they could see the way these pilots behave. _

_Someone told me that Elm Park has been converted to a military airfield now, which doesn't surprise me, except for that Adams might have been sorry to see it go. _

_I received a letter from Mark, too, and it appears that he is far more amiable through letters than he ever was in person. It would be typical of us Russell's, stubborn to remain hateful and bitter, that as soon as we start to become something resembling friends that one or both of us ends up killed. _

_I hope that things are well where you are- that Aunt Grace hasn't tried to drag you to Battersea again to live with her. You're suited to the hotel, Christina, even if they do work you far too hard for the recognition you receive- for all your effort, you should be running the place by now. _

_I'll write again soon. With love,_

_William.'_

Christina read it again, and then again, tracing the handwritten words with her finger, imagining him sat in some sort of barracks surrounded by RFC friends, still in his pilot clothes, writing to her with a small smile on his face as he made his odd jokes or recalled something funny, triggered by what he was writing. His letter was, as always, filled with aeroplane and flying news and she was used to that by now; what struck her was both the causal joke about him or Mark dying and the fact he had not requested leave. The joke made her shiver and feel anxious, but the refusal to ask for leave made her feel hurt, even angry.

Did he not want to come home, to see her? She knew that he was a Captain and had duties that he must fulfil, and that a world war and fighting for freedom was far more important than her, but surely after 6 months he would be desperate to come home even for a few days?! She had been an aching, miserable wreck for the first few weeks without him and even now she still had nightmares and fretted about the silly things, frantically reading the horrifically boring newspaper pages dedicated to war news. She got the impression, after sifting through the sensationalised drama that occupied most of the paper, that the war was still relatively slow but the talk of the country was that it would not remain that way for much longer. Just hearing gossip such as that made Christina feel sick with worry and yet William did not even want to come home!

Oh you're just being silly, she told herself harshly as she placed the letter down on the little table and wiped her eyes to blot the few pathetic tears that had escaped without her noticing, of course he wants to come home- he just knows that he is the best pilot out of them all and that he is needed.

Christina was not being biased towards William, thinking that he was the best. She had received a few letters from other RFC pilots, all messily written and lacking in grammar and spelling but heartfelt and true, all praising her husband for various amazing things he appeared to have done. Due to the iron fist of the army, and their censorship to prevent demoralising details leaking to those anxiously waiting at home in Britain, Christina only had a hazy idea about what William was actually doing in France- flying and taking pictures, the vague letters seemed to suggest, but whenever she thought about this ludicrous images of William hanging out of a cockpit with a camera filled her head and she felt silly to think it.

She had even received a letter from one particular young man who was adamant that William had saved his life. Christina, though desperate for the war to end and for William to not be out in France risking life and limb every day, could not help that awful motherly sense of pride that washed through her whenever someone asked her about him or praised his excellence. It was that perverse logic she had experienced at Elm Park in the early days, when she had been terrified to go up in an aeroplane but had been bitterly disappointed when William did not implore her to go up for a flight. Only this time it was the fierce clash of fear and pride.

Christina was surprised to see that the room was dark and shadowed when she came out of her musings, and she got ready for bed with a heavy heart, still weighed down by the disappointment that William would not be coming home any time soon. But, she reminded herself in a futile attempt at optimism as she lay down under the covers, you will see Dick soon- and it will be nice to see him again.

Christina slept badly, for no particular reason that she could establish, and felt tired and irritable all through the morning as she dashed around trying to appease grumbling guests as they filed out of the hotel to awaiting motor cars. Mr Saunders looked as if he might throw a temper tantrum he was so furious, especially as he tried to soothe his guests and received cold responses from many of them. His depleting hair looked messy, from the countless times he had worriedly raked his hands through it, and Christina was sure that her own pinned back hair was messy and flyaway, simply from the constant running about.

There was no time to answer the telephone or to organise her paperwork- they were short staffed, due to two of the maids and one waitress having all come down with the same sickness, and Christina bit back the fiery protest that sprung to her lips when a disgruntled Mr Saunders informed her that she would be needed to help ready the bedrooms for the soldiers.

"I am sorry, Mrs Russell, but it cannot be helped. The army bark their orders at us and we simply have to jump to it, I'm afraid." He offered lamely, and Christina did not ask him to call her Christina, or smile at him when she nodded her silent acceptance. She was furious with all the hard work that had been dumped upon them simply because the army demanded it, furious that her already hectic day was being made even worse and furious that William had not applied for leave.

When the army did arrive, at gone five in the evening, Christina remained crisp and curt with them, still feeling a cold fury as she ran up and down the stairs after them, trying to direct them to rooms and to persuade them not to track mud everywhere. When she had seen them all, trailing into the foyer like a class of bedraggled school boys, she had been astonished by their appearance- muddy, fatigued, skinny and all with that same faintly horrified look upon their faces and dancing in their eyes. Neither she nor Mr Saunders had truly realised that these men had come straight from France, and were waiting in the hotel until further transport could be provided to take them home, and Christina knew with a stab of guilt that if she had been aware she would have been far less irritable regarding the whole mess.

What was even more horrifying to see was that when one of the waitresses dropped a large tea tray, and there was a loud crash as hot tea and china exploded against the floor, several of the men seemed to go mad with seemingly unexplainable terror- one of them even started to scream and cry, and had to be carried off into the dining room by several of his comrades to be calmed with brandy. Christina watched them, these young men who had been aged by their experiences, and felt fear clutch at her heart as she wondered in what state William would return to her.

Would he wear that horrified expression, and have anguish deep within his eyes? Would he be frail and filthy, weary and exhausted? Would he be like those men who had been affected by the loud crash, screaming out and flailing in terror? He seemed the same as ever in his letters, but Christina was very aware that William was something of an expert at concealing how he truly felt- he had never told her when he was scared, or when he was upset, and at once Christina saw his face in her mind as it had been the night of Sandy's death as he had lain in the shed and stared up at the ceiling, nothing to hide his pain. She recalled how she had ached to reach out for him, but how something had held her back from doing so, as she had known that if she did they would drown in their shared misery. To see him like that again was one of her biggest fears.

Later in the evening, when most of the soldiers had retreated to their rooms, swaying with exhaustion, Christina finally decided to return to her position at the front desk to try and catch up on all the hideously tedious jobs that she had needed to do today. She redid her hair as she hurried down the stairs and strode across the foyer, far too busy fumbling with pins to notice that there was someone stood there, and she ploughed straight into him.

"Oh my goodness, I am so terribly sorry-!" she gasped, but then she realised that by some almost fantastical twist of fate that she had bumped into Dick- she knew it was him from his yellow sandy hair, for he no longer looked tanned and sturdy and healthy as he had done; it was only his hair, and his kind eyes that remained the same. In a mad fit of sadness to see him so changed, and the joy at this surprise meeting, she flung her arms around him. "Dick! It is you! I couldn't believe it when I saw your name on the lists but I hoped it was, and now you're here!"

"Miss Christina!" he sounded astonished to see her, clearly not expecting to have found her at a hotel in Kingston. She felt him happily hug her back, before suddenly going tense and saying in a strangled, uncomfortable voice. "Sorry- Mrs Russell."

Christina felt her face flame at his tone, and she hastily stood back and looked at him instead, seeing the unreadable expression on his features and frowning a little. He was painfully thin, and pale, and his uniform was splattered with mud and dirt. He had looked oddly smart on that distant day when he had fought Mark at Flambards, but now he looked dreadful.

"No. Don't call me that, not after everything. Call me Christina." She insisted in a voice that sounded odd to her ears.

"I don't think I can, Mrs Russell- it doesn't feel right." He sounded emotionless, his tone giving away nothing more than his voice did. Christina felt...she did not know how to describe it, this awful washing sensation that seemed to extinguish all her energy. "So, why are you here, in Kingston? I know that you- that you married Mr Russell."

"I work here- William and I have no house yet, because he is in France." Christina now sounded as emotionless and blank as him.

"France? Fighting, you mean?"

"Yes. A Captain in the Royal Flying Corps. After the Hunt Ball in 1912 we left Flambards, together, and came to Kingston for William's flying. He is an excellent pilot, but then I suppose you already know that."

"Yes, I remember a few details about Mr Russell's flying. I don't suppose the elder Mr Russell approved of your running away?"

"Do you mean Uncle Russell, or-"

"Mark." Dick said the name in a disgusted voice, and Christina shook her head in answer to his question.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Christina looked down at the floor. She had no clue as to what she should say, and she was so scared that she would offend him or say the wrong thing that she was actually trembling.

"How is- Violet?" she asked reluctantly, and Dick's face tightened.

"Fine, I suppose." Something about Dick's voice told Christina not to ask about the child, Mark's child, so she kept her mouth shut. Dick's face suddenly twisted with some emotion that Christina didn't understand, and she opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he spoke suddenly in a low, rough voice. "Look, Christina, I don't want to talk to you about the past. That's behind us now. I'm happy that you married Mr William rather than Mark and I-" he stopped, suddenly. "Is it for the money?"

"What?" Christina exclaimed, startled. "I don't understand what you're asking me, Dick."

"Did- did Mr William and you marry for convenience? He would have your money to do his flying and you would have a reason not to marry Mark." Dick said tightly and Christina gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

"No- no of course not!" she gasped out. "Why would you think that, Dick?"

"I never thought you would want a life like this, that's all. I never imagined you in a town, working in a hotel..." Dick flushed red, as if suddenly realising that he had admitted to thinking about her, and he hurried to continue. "You were always so happy at Flambards, Miss- I mean, Mrs Russell. You seemed to love it, all the hunting and the idea of keeping the old place going." He paused to look her, this time his face soft. "But I suppose that people change, don't they. I should really be going to bed now, Mrs Russell- for all I know, we could be leaving again tomorrow."

Christina nodded mutely, not able to speak. Dick's words had struck a chord within her- the mention of Flambards, of her old life, of the freedom and the horses and the hunting and the rolling Essex greenery... Oh God no, she thought desperately as she felt a pang of homesickness for the old crumbling house and the big fields, not now please- not when William is away and I have nothing to keep me here.

"It was good to see you, Dick." She managed to say eventually. "If you want to write, you know where I am."

"Yes. Thank you, Christina." He smiled at her, before turning and going up the stairs to the rooms.

Once he was gone, Christina went into the office, closed the door, and sunk into the huge armchair, placing her aching head in her hands. It was as if the past were rising up again; with William gone, all those long gone cravings and desperate longings for Flambards were building again and her head was filled with mad ideas, mad ideas about going to stay there for a week maybe, about visiting sometime soon or maybe writing to Mary to ask her about how things were-

"I am going mad." She said aloud in the empty room to herself, her voice sounding incredibly small in the vast silence. And she knew she really was going mad, as she felt sad when she did not receive a reply, even though she knew no-one was there to give it.

**Hi again, sorry to keep popping up again at the end of the chapter. This was harder to write than I expected, as I'm so used to writing Flambards pieces that have William in, but he didn't really feature at all in this chapter- sorry if parts of it seem a bit disjointed, I'm still getting used to this story :-)**

**I'm interested to hear your answers to the questions in the first author note, and any feedback about this chapter. Thank you! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: ****I am not KM Peyton, for if I were William wouldn't have died.**

**Author Note:**** First of all, apologies to anyone reading this story that this update has taken so long. My feeble excuses are that I was on holiday, and also I am struggling a little with the plot. I know what is going to happen in this story but I am unsure of how to set these events on a timescale- I am undecided whether to rush into certain elements or to build up the story gradually. I'll just write and see what happens :-)**

**A huge thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter; neverwithoutyou and Ava. The fluffy Will/Christina flashback that starts this chapter is dedicated to you two fellow Will fans :-) **

**Two- A Visit to the Past**

_It was hot. The warm, yet not at all sticky, weather that came alongside open blue skies with the occasional burst of fluffy white cloud, bright sunshine and vast fields of wildflowers gently waving in the slightest hint of a summer breeze amid the tendrils of dancing grass. It was the sort of weather that you could not help but feel happy in- the sort of day that made you feel as if the whole world were smiling with you, that nothing at all could go wrong._

_Christina Parsons adored this kind of weather- it was a welcome excuse to be out and about in the rolling greenery of the Essex fields, a perfect reason to leave the dark and dank Flambards halls and enjoy fresh air that didn't taste sour from years of mould and bitterness. Flambards, or rather it's two most dominant and incessantly moody occupants, did not share her joy; they were only happy when the wind chilled you to the bone and snow fell thick on the solid ground, for then it was hunting season. Christina knew that to Mark, and Uncle Russell, there was no sentimental beauty in lazy summer afternoons spent strolling through open fields or basking in the sunshine without a care in the world; to them, the most important time to be out and about all day was when the trees were blanketed by frost, the world frozen and only shades of white and grey, the scarlet jackets of the hunters exploding colour into the icy morning. _

_Mark's rather childish tempers at the warmth and the summer made Christina laugh disbelieving at him, which only served to make him angrier and more likely to make moody comments or to throw something in a fit of rage. She could understand some of his frustration; she sorely missed riding properly, for although she took Drummer and Woodpigeon out along the lanes and across the fields, the heat made the cumbersome riding habit and hat far too uncomfortable to be out for long. She had tried to ride in her normal clothes, finding it a far better experience, but Mary had tutted and made such a fuss that Christina felt too guilty to do it again._

"_Oh, Miss, those stains will never come out, the material's too porous! I haven't the time to soak it and scrub for hours- where's your riding habit? I washed it only yesterday, I'm sure of it! Can't you just wear that to ride?"_

_But although she did miss the thrill of riding, Christina-unlike Mark- still enjoyed every warm day of the summer. For she had become the regular companion of William on his daily outings to Mr Dermot's, somehow managing to fit in with the group of oily young men whose heads were full of mechanical problems and flying dreams. She loved spending the days in that pleasant company, basking in the warmth and the chatter, whilst also watching- with some amusement- how the group of dedicated young men laboured and coaxed their odd little aeroplane with the tender love Christina had assumed was reserved for girls. But she was their girl- Emma, their love and life, and it was this spectacle of young men labouring over the quirky contraption that Christina stood watching on that lovely warm day._

_It was by far the warmest day of the summer so far, and Christina could feel the heat beating down on her, making her face flush and her hair droop in a complete mess. In the heat, William, Joe and Jack were all in shirts, the sleeves pushed up to expose their forearms as they happily got smears of grime and oil all over them. Their focus and their passion for their work on the aeroplane was so great, it became startling if they suddenly broke into laughter or jostled each other like schoolboys, protesting and jesting as they fooled about._

_William was 18, but Christina knew very well that he was far older than this mentally. Even studying him now, seeing his facial expressions and listening to the intellect that utterly filled his words- Christina couldn't help but smile to herself. There was none of Mark's childish boastfulness, or the continual need to pick fights, to arrogantly assume the role of dominant master, of leader. William was the stark opposite of his elder brother in so many ways- he was gentle, thoughtful, mature, humorous but in a far less ostentatious manner, shockingly intelligent, progressive (Christina had endured many a heated lecture from William criticising the archaic world they lived in, with masters and servants and being born into positions) and also the fundamental trait that Christina found she appreciated the most about William; he was kind. _

_Even when he ardently opposed her views, or even when she was behaving like a total idiot who understood nothing, William would never lash out with his words in the way that Mark would. He encouraged her to have an opinion, to form her own views and to be independent by sticking by them- he treated her as if she were an equal to him. But there was also something infinitely peaceful about William, for he was the kind of person who allowed you to think- and that was exactly what Christina was doing at that moment. _

_Watching him and Joe and Jack, she was struck hard by the fact that where once a group of gangly boys had clustered, there was now a group of young men, intelligent and committed. Christina felt a little uneasy as she studied William's face from a distance, giving a slight shudder as she asked herself; when had her childhood ally, sometimes scornful and always far too clever, transformed from a child into this mature, intelligent and- Christina had to notice- handsome young man? _

_For it was true- 18 years old, tall and slim with dark hair and the dark Russell eyes, William was an attractive young man. It was hard to imagine, as Mark had always been the handsome charmer, but Christina knew that if William were still hunting and riding he would have received interest from the girls that always giggled and flirted with Mark. For a reason she honestly could not fathom, the idea of William going about with a girl on his arm made Christina feel as if she might be sick. Afraid of unsettling herself even further, she turned her back on where Emma and the boys were sat in the open field, wading through the tall grasses towards a cluster of white flowers, telling herself that she intended to pick one or two._

_As she bent to pick them, she felt her hair tumble loose and messy around her shoulders, and as she reached up to scrape the hair back she seemed to suddenly realise how dull and unfashionable her clothes were. She was covered in pollen and fragments of wildflowers, her face flushed, not at all elegant or stunning or even smart- I'll bet he still sees me as the stupid little girl who always asks awkward questions and tags along, she thought bitterly out of nowhere, clamping her hands to her mouth in shock. Why was she thinking in such a ludicrous manner?_

"_Christina!"_

_She heard him call out her name, so she turned and walked towards Emma. William was hurrying through the grass, his face stretched into a huge smile, his eyes alight with the usual aeronautical bliss, and when Christina met him halfway across the field he gave her a huge grin. She smiled expectantly._

"_I assume from your manner that everything went successfully?" she asked pointedly, and he laughed at her. "Do I get an exhibit today, then?"_

"_No, unfortunately not. It's too hot. Jack and Joe are off to the village, to meet their girlfriends for the afternoon, and I thought it was wrong to keep them any longer if we're not even going to have a test flight today." He explained, turning back to look at where Joe and Jack were wheeling Emma across the field towards the house, where her shed was. He looked wistful, as if he would have enjoyed another hour or so tinkering with the engine._

"_Oh. So you're going with them, to the village to meet up with their girlfriends?" she asked, wishing she could satisfy her curiosity with the real question she wanted to ask- are you meeting a girl too? She felt a little annoyed by this change of plan- she and William always took the car back and then raced up through the gardens to the front door of Flambards. It was a part of the day she especially enjoyed._

"_Of course not. Why would I do that? What a pointless way to spend a glorious afternoon." He said cheerfully, suddenly holding out an oily hand, his friendly smile back again. "It does mean that we have quite a walk ahead of us, though. They're taking the car, so it looks like we're going home on foot today Christina."_

_Christina thought that she must have pulled a face in protest, because suddenly he burst out laughing and wiped a smear of oil over her face, tapping her nose almost fondly. _

"_Oh come on, you." He laughed at her, waving to Joe and Jack before seizing her hand in his and striding off across the field so she had to walk beside him. "I know that Mark would probably lift you up onto a horse and gallop off with you, but you'll have my brilliant company to make up for it. How can you refuse?"_

"_Maybe I should ask Joe and Jack to take me into the village with them." Christina laughed, taking her hand out of William's- for some absurd reason, she had felt her chest tighten as soon as her hand was in contact with his- and instead slipping her arm through his, exaggerating the gesture with an airy laugh. "I am far better suited to the delicate female company, rather than tramping through miles of woodland with a lunatic covered in oil."_

"_Yes, you did get a rather bad lot, coming to Flambards. I suppose you had only ever lived with women before?" William asked conversationally, and Christina frowned a little as she considered it._

_There had been countless female relatives whom she had stayed with over her childhood, some for years- such as dear Aunt Grace- and some for mere weeks. Flambards had certainly opened her eyes to many new things, things that her Aunts and Cousins would have said in hushed voices behind closed doors away from her innocent ears. _

"_Mmm." She agreed distantly, wondering what would have happened if she had simply stayed with Aunt Grace in Battersea. "It was all rather dull compared to Flambards- just sewing and afternoon tea and writing letters."_

"_Well you can call Flambards many things, but dull certainly isn't one of them." William agreed with a grin. "I suppose none of your Aunts ever got drunk on port, went riding through the mud swearing at the tops of their voices or had the endless debts piling up as they bullied the servants?"_

"_No." Christina replied, making his grin widen as she said. "And none of them were infatuated with flying machines, either."_

"_No I don't suppose they were." He laughed, looking up at the sky. They had reached the woodland now, at the sunlight streamed down through the gaps in the leafy canopy, where snatches of blue were visible through the greenery. "But not many people are. I should think that any sensible person would regard me as a brainless fool, risking my neck on a crazy invention." He suddenly became thoughtful, the humour gone. "They don't realise that all inventions have risk- that everything had to start from someone being a little mad to try something new. Mr Dermot's Emma is hardly what you would call a proficient and danger free aeroplane, but she flies, and it's a starting point. In twenty years, when aeroplanes are part of everyday life, then they'll have forgotten that they were the ones saying we were fools for trying, and getting killed pointlessly for our efforts."_

_Christina could hear the passion in his voice as he spoke, and she knew it was not her who he was trying to demonstrate the good of change too. But even though she understood William's motives entirely, she couldn't help but think- yes, I know people have to risk their lives so that we may progress our knowledge...but I wish that it wasn't _you_ who was risking his life._

"_Then of course are those who squeal over it, something exciting and daring and dangerous- Jack said it to me today, that some girls love the idea of some handsome pilot doing daring things with a machine, risking his life." William's voice had gone flat. He gave Christina a quick sideways glance and a small smile hinted at his lips. "And then there are those few madmen and women, who are devoted to terrifying creatures and spend their winter astride these beasts, jumping over hedges and chasing poor innocent foxes-"_

_Christina burst out into indignant laughter, shoving William sideways so that he stumbled a little, tripping in the thicket._

"_We are not mad." She retorted with a grin. _

"_Oh? Then what are you?" William teased, his dark eyes sparkling as he suddenly lunged for her, pushing her so that she nearly fell shrieking into the bushes. "Come on, Christina, defend your archaic ways against the dangerous radical!"_

_Laughing, Christina set off running down the track and William ran after her, fast despite his locked knee. For a considerable distance through the woods they ran, laughing and calling ridiculous insults out to each other, and when they finally cleared the trees and reached the lane that ran alongside one of the Flambards fields, Christina's skirt caught at her knees and laughing madly she tumbled down onto the dusty floor. William, right on her heels, tripped over her and landed on top of her, both of them laughing breathlessly at the hilarity of the situation._

"_You tripped me!" William accused between laughs._

"_You were the one chasing me in the first place!" Christina replied breathlessly, giggling feebly. _

_She was laying on the sun baked ground, staring up at the sun and the sky and William who had toppled straight onto her. She suddenly realised, as she managed to catch her breath and stop the hysterical laughter, that they were in rather an indecent position- his face was so close to her own she could feel his laughter on her face, see the full beauty of those sparkling dark eyes. She expected William to get up off of her, to haul her to her feet and set off again in the afternoon sunshine, but for some reason they were both frozen there, as if both of them had suddenly become very aware of their proximity at the exact same moment. Christina could feel her heart speeding up inside her chest, fluttering inside her ribcage, and she hoped that her face was not betraying her by blushing. _

"_Christina." William said softly, looking right into her eyes, and she felt her lips part slightly, words forming on the end of her tongue but somehow not being spoken._

"_William." Was all she managed to say in response, and they continued to lay sprawled on the floor there, staring frozen at each other until the sound of a horse and cart approaching made William scramble up, pulling her up too. They brushed down their clothes and moved to the side of the lane, the silence between them enormous, and once the cart had passed they continued along in silence for a few more minutes until they reached the Flambards gate, where William- according to their tradition- suddenly grinned and challenged her to a race to the front door, already charging off as she ran after him, protesting loudly._

_A few weeks later, William managed to wreck the Point to Point in Emma and went away from Flambards, promising to return to take her to the Hunt Ball. The feelings that had begun to stir on that summers day, on that odd walk home from Mr Dermot's, only intensified over the week spent in the awful dread that William would not come for her, leaving her restless and sleepless and full of desperate, aching hope. But William did return, and when he next left, Christina was by his side, full of excitement and joy and those feelings that had been gradually growing inside her. As soon as William had held her close for the first dance of that evening, Christina had realised at last what those feelings stirring inside her were- love. And as she curled up against him in the borrowed Rolls Royce, staring out at the darkness of those Essex fields, she knew that those strange feelings of love she felt were something unlike anything she had ever experienced before. _

_And although she was fleeing Flambards, a home of five years and a place she had come to love, she knew that any homesickness or wistful imaginings of that house would be easily overcome. For, as Aunt Grace had once recited in a dreamy voice, home is where the heart is- and Christina's heart was with William, wherever that might be._

Christina awoke with a start, the sensation of being jolted to a halt waking her from the warmth of sleep, and she looked around confusedly before remembering where she was- on a train, from London to Essex...or, if she was more exact and ignored the stupid sensations of guilt, to Flambards. After the conversation with Dick, Christina had been so overcome by thoughts and worries and wishes concerning Flambards to the point that she simply could not stay in Kingston and remain sane. So she had written to Mar, saying that she wanted to visit, and as soon as Mr Saunders had agreed she had made the arrangements to leave by train the next afternoon. And now, after many delays and an arduously slow and thus long journey, she was here at last.

She hastily scrambled up from her seat and collected the one suitcase she had with her from the rack above her head, hurrying to exit the warm carriage and get out onto the platform. So fixated was she upon reaching this destination, rather than being still upon the train when it started lethargically chugging to the next station along the line, Christina was not hit by the déjà vu until she was stood firmly upon the platform, watching the train move off.

The station looked unchanged, just the same as the day she had come down from Elm Park with Aunt Grace to go to the funeral of Uncle Russell. It was that strange and unworldly event that had allowed her marriage to take place, and that had only been 8 months ago- strange, Christina thought to herself as she began to walk to where she knew a pony trap would be waiting, I was last here perhaps only a year ago and yet it feels so much longer.

Everything looked Victorian and old fashioned compared to the modernised Kingston, and Christina smiled when she saw that there were no motor cars in sight, only ponies and carts, one of which was there for her. She hurried over to the red cheeked, smiling Fowler and very nearly embraced him simply because he looked so cheerful and unchanged from her memories. She settled for a warm smile, and a handshake- Fowler seemed a little shocked by this, reminding Christina that her days with the airfield crowd had made her forget that the majority still clung to the old ways- and Fowler urged her onto the trap so that they could hurry on home, where Mary had apparently made dinner, excited by the prospect of having a guest. Christina knew Mark had not been to Flambards since he had been sent to France-she had worried, when she wrote to Mary asking to visit, that having someone to attend to after so long spent in hopeless limbo that she might be imposing herself upon them in a selfish manner. But Mary seemed thrilled to have someone coming to see them, and Fowler's words reassured her that this was truth, not just being polite.

"Of course, Miss, we were wonderin' if Mr William might be joining you on this visit." Fowler said as the trap set off through the lanes. "We 'aven't seen 'im since the 'unt Ball all those years ago."

"Oh, no, William is in France at the moment." Christina said in a light voice, and Fowler nodded and made some comment about Mary following the news of Master William's squadron in the newspapers whenever she could. Christina didn't hear the words- she was suddenly swept into an agonising sensation of guilt, the mention of William a cold reminder that if he were home on leave, she would most definitely not be visiting Flambards. She was certain that William intended never to go willingly to the house of his childhood again, his time spent at the liberal and free places such as Elm Park likely to form a stark contrast to the archaic and 'medieval' house that still used the master and servant principles that angered him so much.

But although Christina could understand her husband's aversion to the place, and the old fashioned ways of life- she, too, had been changed by spending all her time with the progressive types at Elm Park and hearing astonishing stories such as those of Sandy's suffragette mother- she could never despise Flambards. There was far too much of her own life entwined with that crumbling house, so much so that if she did loathe the place she might as well be loathing a large part of herself. As the trap turned down the lanes running alongside the Flambards fields, Christina felt her heart swell with the wash of memories flooding over her; that first terrifying yet exhilarating riding lesson, charging up the muddy banks on horseback with Mark laughing at the pure joy of the chase, running up the driveway with William close behind her as they shrieked in hysteria, the headlamps of the Rolls Royce bursting through the darkness and illuminating the fields for the last time as they fled the Hunt Ball and everything they knew-

"Miss?" Fowler verbally prodded, and Christina jumped with the surprise of being back in the real world, looking around her and realising with a small gasp that they were coming up to Flambards. As her eyes took in the ancient, crumbling household, set amongst the muddy fields that knew the hunt and the horses better than herself, she felt stupid tears of delight spring up and blur her vision, stinging a little before they escaped down her face. Fowler saw, and smiled. "Good to be 'ome, Miss?"

"Yes. Yes, it is good to be home." She replied in a dizzy voice, forgetting in that moment that her home was in Kingston, at the hotel. But what was a dormitory compared to this, this house of her childhood?

Walking to the front door and opening it, as she had done so many times before, and stepping into the huge hallway made a tumult of sensations stir within her. She took a deep breath, tasting the musty air and seeing the drab, dull decor and although she had as a child found the darkness and the gloom stifling, now it just felt like home- as if she were a young child who had been away for a year, plagued by homesickness, and was at last back in the place she loved. The feelings that had been confusing her since the odd conversation with Dick, the sensations of craving this house, seemed to disappear, replaced by the warm sensation that she was back where she belonged.

"Mrs Russell!"

The sound of Mary's delighted voice made Christina drop her suitcase and hurry over to the old woman, whose face was stretched into a brilliant smile. Where with Fowler she had settled for a handshake, Christina was far too overcome to resist- she embraced the housekeeper as if they were family, laughing as they broke apart and Mary looked at her with shining eyes.

"Why, Mrs Russell, you look so well!" she exclaimed, urging Christina to remove her hat and to come with her through to the cosy kitchen- it was gorgeously warm and smelt wonderful, of food cooking, and Christina settled down happily on the wooden stool in the corner as she had done as a child. Mary continued to bustle around, making the final dinner preparations, but her chatter continued happily and Christina was content to sit and savour it. "Fowler and I were so thrilled to hear from you, to have you come to stay for a few days! The place is so empty and quiet now, what with Mr Russell in France, just as Mr William is. I don't know what to do with myself all day- I keep cleaning the late Mr Russell's rooms, and Mr Mark's and Mr William's, but there doesn't seem much point. And Fowler's all in a mess, with all the horses commissioned into the army or sold- it feels as if Flambards has gone into hibernation, Miss, but we're still bustling around the place doing what we can."

"It seems such a waste." Christina murmured to herself, thinking of the hunting days before the war. Yes, Flambards had been crumbling and run down then, the farm useless and the old spirit of the place gone, but at least there had been something. "Hasn't Mark done anything at all with the place? I always thought he might try and revive Flambards, try to re-establish the farm and the horses and the hounds..."

"There's no money for all that, Miss." Mary sniffed, sounding as discontent with it as Christina felt. "And there's the fact that Mr Mark hasn't come back here once since the war started- he barely writes, but from what I gather, any leave he's given he spends elsewhere with his cavalry friends."

Christina felt her chest tighten with the shock of hearing such a thing- Mark had practically abandoned Flambards, and Mary and Fowler along with it! She distinctly remembered his clumsy proposal from all those years ago, the suggestion that they marry because they both held the same love for this decaying old house. She had seen in it his eyes, the sincerity of the offer- she had thought that he would fight to bring Flambards back to glory no matter what. She had thought that he loved the old place. But where was that love now?

"Oh, I don't know why that surprises me." She muttered crossly, and Mary smiled fondly at her. "It's so dreadful of him, abandoning you like that. William never pretended to care for Flambards, but Mark always seemed to."

"I wouldn't think too much of it, Miss. I've no doubt he'll be back once the war is over, and then he'll bring some life back into the place." Mary sounded the same as ever. "This dratted war...taking all our boys away from us, leaving us in the lurch! I follow Mr William's squadron in the papers, Miss, did Fowler tell you that?"

"He did." Christina smiled, watching as Mary suddenly hurried out of the kitchen muttering something under her breath, coming back with a tatty looking book in her grasp. "What's that, Mary?"

"I've been with the Russell boys since they were born, Miss, and when they both left I started following their progress whenever I could. I've cut out anything in the papers and stuck it down- there's other photo's too; your wedding, Mr Mark winning the Point to Point at long last, something about Mr William and his crazy contraptions at Hendon..." she shook her head and looked fondly down at the little book, passing it over to Christina, who held it as if it were a priceless antique. "There you are Miss- have a look. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

"Oh Mary, it's wonderful!" Christina gave a soft gasp, turning the pages in wonder.

And it was- the little book, the pages stiff with cuttings and photographs. Christina smiled down at the slightly blurred photo of Mark and Treasure, seeing how Mark's face was stretched wide into one of those rare jubilant grins of his- he had often smiled and laughed, but usually in dark humour or sarcasm, so it was strangely pleasing to see that someone had managed to capture the honestly happy Mark. There were paragraphs cut out of the paper too- detailing Mr Mark Russell's advances in the cavalry, and of other races he had won.

The photo's and paragraphs detailing William's antics at Hendon made Christina laugh a little, reading over the sensationalised descriptions and recalling how William had complained bitterly about it and the fame he received for it- the girls who wrote their names on the fuselage, the young men who had enthusiastically pumped his arm up and down and tried to speak the plane jargon, getting it all wrong. The photo of Will and Sandy made tears well up, seeing the smiling face of the carefree pilot who she had found a constant source of comfort from. Mary had probably snipped that photo out of the paper not knowing who the other young man was, but it was clear from Will's expression that they were the greatest of friends.

The wedding photos were lovely to see again- Christina's own copies, carefully stuck into a red photo album that she had saved for diligently, were back in her room at the hotel- and she gazed down at her and her husband smiling together, thinking back to that day which had seemed more like a dream that reality at the time. She looked so happy, as did William. There was one photo that Christina especially loved- Mary didn't have it in her little book, because it was actually a mistake, a photo that was accidentally taken at the wrong time. But Christina loved that mistake photo because it was a shot of her and William talking outside the church, she laughing at something he had just said, and he...Christina felt her heart flutter at the thought of it. In this photo, this mistaken shot, William was looking at her with such adoration, such a rare open display of affection and love as he held her hands and made her laugh. She could not help but love the photo, and she wished that Mary did have a copy, so that she could look at it now.

"Dinner is ready, Miss. Where would you like to eat?" Mary asked, taking her focus out of the past and back in the present, in the warm, homely kitchen.

"I would rather eat in here, than in the dining room by myself." Christina said cautiously, worried she might be causing more trouble, but Mary gave her a beaming smile and began to set a place at the large wooden table in the centre.

Before she placed the little book, so full of precious memories, back in the capable hands of Mary, Christina quickly flicked through to find a page that contained the news of William and the RFC. She read over the short, to the point and vague descriptions of the squadron, the sombre notices of when a pilot had been killed or injured and the mentions of the brave young Captain Russell earning a medal. There were not countless photo's of William in RFC uniform, as there were with Mark- he had posed with Treasure, smart in uniform, for many photos- but there was one. William, in his uniform, standing next to his aeroplane, smiling brilliantly. There was something about that photo that struck Christina hard, making her feel as if she had been winded. He looked...he looked so _happy_, stood there, ready to go flying off to France in one of his beloved flying machines.

She thought back to his letter, apologising for not asking for leave, and snapped the book shut with a bitter laugh. Because it was flying, William had no problem with the war and being gone for months at a time. Because it was flying, he didn't care that it was dangerous or that he was risking his life daily. Because it was flying, he could just about overlook the fact that his opinions contradicted many elements and details of the war he was fighting in. And because it was flying, he didn't seem to desperately miss her and want to be home.

Christina ate her food and retired early to bed that evening, too troubled by her own musings and worries to feel overcome by the wash of memories that flooded back at simply being in this old childhood bedroom again. As she readied herself for bed, and eventually sat down atop of the covers and stared blankly out of the window at the darkening skies, she again considered the fact that she was here at Flambards. It was only for a weekend, Mr Saunders having given her the days off without a problem, but Christina was already feeling saddened by the idea that she would have to leave this place, this home.

William might be content and happy, away for months at a time without her, but she was most certainly not. She had been desperate to see him again, longing for the letter that would tell her that he was coming home, but all she had received was cheerful apologies and flying tales. Could he not tell from the tone of her letters that she was desperately missing him? It was hard enough living at the hotel, constantly feeling the sense that she was homeless despite the fact she had a bed and a roof over her head. All Christina wanted was the married life with William she thought she must be entitled to by now; a home that was theirs, a life that was theirs, memories to be made and good times to be lived that were theirs, not borrowed time from the army spent in hotels and dormitories. William had not been home on leave at all since leaving for France, and after so long, Christina was starting to lose her patience and her strength.

Flambards, with the kindly Mary and the amiable Fowler, was a home. Despite the lack of horses, and the excess dust and gloom, it was still a home and Christina lay down on her bed and felt tears slip down her face with the fierce longing for it. She curled up under the covers and reached out, wanting with all her might for William to be lying there, within reach, for it to be a possibility that she might find him in the dark and lay close beside him. But William was off doing what he wanted, having the time of his life she unrealistically and bitterly thought, and she was stuck here waiting for him to come home to her.

Oh you fool, she thought angrily as she wept into her own hair, you're stronger than this- you shouldn't be a miserable wreck just because he's been gone for over half a year. But Christina loved William in such a way that she didn't just want him, she needed him- she always had, even right from the start on that ridiculous walk home from Mr Dermot's where she had lain there on the ground, staring up at his face so close to hers, already disappointed with the knowledge that they could not remain like that, close together, forever.

With an irritable sigh of frustration at her own stupidity, Christina got up from the bed and left her room with near silent footsteps, going down the corridor to William's old bedroom. When she opened that long closed door, surprised by the fact that the hinges did not creak from the lack of use, she took in the dark shadows and shapes that made up his bed and his desk and all his books, all watched over silently by the several model aeroplanes which hung from the ceiling on their cotton threads. The air was dry and fine with a little dust, the sort that came from books- of which there were many in William's room- and with a nostalgic sigh Christina lay down on William's old bed, not getting under the covers, but taking a blanket that was sat on the nearby chair and using that instead. She had first met him in this room, when he had been lying in this very bed, a fireguard and countless covers heaped over him.

It was silly, but Christina felt as if she were closer to him in this quiet little room, sleeping on his bed, watched over by his model aeroplanes.

"I will stop being so stupid, so pathetic." Christina said aloud in the darkness. "William is away doing good, fighting for our country, so I will get on and do some good of my own. Mark may have abandoned Flambards, but I won't."

Christina, not yet 21, had no funds to do anything particularly amazing to the old decaying house of her childhood, but she could do something. She could help Mary to brighten the place, to clean up, and she could pester Mark with letters and tell him that he must go to his house.

"I will come here whenever I can get time off from the hotel- I will bring life back to Flambards." She said in a contented voice, smiling in the darkness. "And even though William wouldn't like it, he's not here. He doesn't have to know. He's fighting and protecting what he deems to be important...and now I am fighting and protecting what I find important."

With a pleased nod to herself, Christina closed her eyes and found peaceful sleep in William's bedroom. The model aeroplanes, still moving slightly in the movement in the air caused by her opening the door, watched over her as she slept , taking the place of their absent creator.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**** I am not KM Peyton, for if I were, William would not have died.**

**Author Note:**** Once again, I can do nothing except apologise earnestly for the lack of updates to this story. Life has become very hectic recently, because I am back at school and A levels have brought tonnes of work crashing down on me, so I have had very little free time to write. However, I am still writing this story, and even though updates may take some time, they will appear eventually. Thank you for your patience :-) **

**Thank you so much to anyone reading this, and especially to those who reviewed last chapter; Ann and Melinda. **

**Ann- I, too, am perplexed by the complete lack of Flambards fanfiction. Another perplexing matter I think is that that most sites associated with the fandom focus on Christina/Dick or Christina/Mark, which is quite annoying for a William supporter like me :-) I'm glad you're enjoying the story and if you have any suggestions for the plot please let me know. **

**Melinda- I also hated that about the books; I've always felt that the author couldn't wait to ditch William and get back to Flambards and horses, which then raises the troubling idea that perhaps KM Peyton intended for Christina to feel that way too. As for the question of the flat- I originally supposed the same idea as you, thinking that if Christina was having Aunt Grace over for lunch and was cooking 'at home' then she and William must have some sort of home together, but then what always puzzles me is that there is no mention of it other than that. My perception of Christina has always been that if she and William had shared a home together, even if it were only a rented flat, she would refer to it and recall it and the times she and William had spent there together, seeing as they had so little time. But that is purely my own assumption, so you're probably right :-D I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and if you have any suggestions for the plot please let me know.**

**Three- Conflicting Desires**

Following her spontaneous visit to Flambards, Christina found herself existing in what could only be compared to a double life- her Kingston self and her Flambards self. In Kingston, she worked diligently in the hotel and was as industrious as ever, morphing into a far more ruthless and hardworking woman than she had ever been before. This sudden change in her was noted with a mix of approval and concern by the fatherly Mr Saunders, who after discovering she had sat up long after all other staff had gone to their beds several nights per week simply to get ahead of her work schedule, approached her with the anxious queries Christina had never received before. As an orphan, and a child who had never had a real home in which to flourish and parents to love her unconditionally, Christina was unaccustomed to having someone looking out for her, so she was astonished when Mr Saunders finally did approach her to ensure she was alright.

"Of course I am alright!" she had exclaimed with perhaps a little too much surprise, for the worry lines creased into Mr Saunders brow had only deepened to hear her tone. "I am sorry to have caused you concern, Sir, but truly there is nothing wrong. In fact, I am happier at present than I have been for some time."

"But the night porter tells me that you have not retired to bed at the usual time- he says you stay in your office, working until the early hours of the morning though it is most certainly not required of you to do so!" Mr Saunders sounded almost frantic as he looked at his young receptionist, whose eyes betrayed no signs of her feeling unhappy. There was none of the telltale redness that came from crying, nor was there anxiety clouding her. But still, he felt responsible for this girl, who was still so young and vulnerable in a world like this, especially with a loved one fighting at the front. "Christina, my dear, I must ask you...is it that you miss your husband, that you worry for him? Can you not sleep because you are constantly thinking of what might happen?"

Christina shook her head firmly and tried not to laugh at the insistence of her employer- she knew the easiest way to explain why she had been working so hard would be to simply tell the truth; that she wanted to get as much work done as possible in order to free up the time to visit Flambards and help Mary and Fowler to get the place running again in Mark's absence. Her lack of funding did not mean she was useless- her last visit had lead to helping Mary to wash all the bedding and even the old drapes, which had been discovered to be threadbare and so discoloured in from years in the damp and dusty rooms they all looked filthy even after several washes. Her hands were still sore and chapped from the tough work, but Christina didn't mind. Now all she needed to do was to persuade Aunt Grace to sew new curtains, and Flambards would be one step closer to resembling a house as opposed to a tomb.

"Please, Mr Saunders, I promise that I am absolutely fine. I enjoy my work, and sometimes I become so engaged with the task at hand I lose track of the time." She found a smile for him, though he didn't look any less worried. "If it makes you happier, I will stop working late."

"No, no, I don't wish to stop you if you are happy." Mr Saunders sighed, his shoulders suddenly sagging in a manner that was almost comical. "I just don't want you to exhaust yourself. The summer season will start again soon, and the war hasn't seemed to have any effect on how busy we are..."

"I won't exhaust myself. Everyone is working hard because of the war- Dorothy tells me in her letters that nursing can be incredibly hard work, but that there is always a sense of satisfaction afterwards because the job has been completed." Christina said, knowing that to mention Dorothy was always a good idea when trying to persuade Mr Saunders to do something- however he might despair of some of his daughters choices, he still adored her and her word was enough to sway him. "I can't compare paperwork to saving lives, but the principle is similar."

Mr Saunders nodded, and looked briefly at the few photo frames Christina had in a cluster on her desk, concealed in the paperwork strewn office. He was looking at the photo of Dorothy, Christina, William and Sandy all posing by the Elm Park cafe, laughing as the camera caught the scene and immortalised the hectic joy they had all felt in those distant days. There, Dorothy was smiling boldly at the camera, her eyes sparkling and her arm very pointedly linked through Sandy's. She looked beautiful and fearless, clearly confident, but it didn't change the fact that Mr Saunders had protested bitterly when Dorothy had first announced that she was going off to France on her own.

Christina had always secretly thought that Dorothy would go out to France expecting to roll bandages and to flirt with handsome soldiers, coming home as soon as she realised the truth of what she would be involved with. The stories of what the nurses had to endure in France certainly were horrific, and Christina knew it was a job she would definitely be incapable of.

But Dorothy had taken to her role in France in a way no one had expected, becoming a brilliant nurse who could keep her cool in emergencies on the ward and could hold the hand of a dying man without crumbling into a useless wreck at his bedside. Christina had always wondered how a girl like Dorothy, who was essentially spoilt and used to being the centre of everyone's attention, could be so good at such a selfless profession. The answer to the puzzling question had been clarified by Dorothy herself in one little sentence, in a letter she had written to Christina when she had first gone out to France a few months ago.

'I never thought I would be any good at all this, Christina, and I admit when they first took me into the ward and told me what I would be doing I immediately wanted to run away- but when I treat each man, I imagine what kind of nurse I would want to be giving help to your William, or Mark, and most of all to poor Sandy, if he had lived and made it out here...I imagine each man I meet is him, and somehow that means I can do what I have to do and be strong for them.'

"I suppose you're right in what you say there." Mr Saunders nodded, eyes hazy with the past. "But still, I want you to have enough rest. Which is why I am going to ask Dorothy to take some leave, and the two of you can have a holiday."

"Thank you, Mr Saunders." Christina nodded, a little disappointed that this meant she would be using holiday and not returning to Flambards, but she could hardly refuse. She hadn't seen Dorothy in some time, and the prospect of spending time with such a carefree person when everyone else seemed so gloomy and fixated on war was very appealing. Also, Christina could tell that Mr Saunders was as anxious for Dorothy as he was for her, so at least if she went on this holiday with her he could be assured that both of them were getting enough rest.

On the morning that Dorothy's train was due to arrive in London, Christina walked to the station and took a little detour to post a letter to Aunt Grace on the way. Still desperate to continue her fight to revive Flambards, she wanted to persuade her Aunt to make the required drapes and bedding as soon as possible, even though she knew questions would be asked as to why Christina was fussing over the wellbeing of a house and servants belonging to her husband's brother. She paused for a moment at the post box, feeling the small envelope in her grip and wondering if she ought to just forget about the whole thing and stop being so ridiculous- but the fighting spirit reawakened inside her refused to be so defeatist, so she tossed the letter inside and continued happily onto the train station, where she found a smart looking Dorothy shamelessly flirting with a porter.

Christina could not help but grin at this familiar sight, and when Dorothy caught sight of her and exclaimed her name in a voice that attracted stares from every other person in the station, Christina was all too happy to forget decorum and rush noisily over to her old friend, embracing her and joining in with her delighted laughter.

"Dorothy!" she laughed happily, her hat slipping from the top of her head, clearly dislodged by her mad run. "It's so lovely to see you again- you look wonderful!"

It was true; Dorothy was positively glowing, her eyes sparkling with wicked amusement as they always had, her rich auburn hair swept up into the latest fashionable style, her clothes gorgeous as ever. She kissed Christina on the cheek, clearly a habit picked up from her time spent in France, and ostentatiously gestured for a porter to fetch her luggage, rewarding the flustered young boy with an appreciative swoop of her long lashes that made him turn bright pink.

"As do you, Christina darling!" she exclaimed, her eyes critically examining Christina's hair and clothes, nodding in approval. "Being married suits you- you look truly wonderful."

"I was married the last time you saw me." Christina pointed out as the porter came running with the luggage, helping them both into a carriage he had provided for them, clearly hopeful that Dorothy would reward him with more than a look for this favour. However she lowered her eyes pointedly and offered him a softly spoken thank you, leaving him disappointed but making her grin and Christina laugh as the carriage started to move smoothly through the fairly busy streets, weaving around stationary horses and angrily revving motor cars, still held back by the swarms of slow moving traffic.

"Hm. That is very true. But you do look extraordinarily happy, Christina, as if something has truly cheered you up." Dorothy said with a smile, settling back into the seat. "For you to be so happy, it must involve William. Is he home on leave right now? Has he been awarded something prestigious and you're proud?" her eyes suddenly widened, and she moved slightly nearer to Christina, her voice lowering to a whisper even though there was no need. "Or is it something far more exciting? Could it be you have special news to share with me?"

Christina looked blankly at her and Dorothy's excited expression dulled to one of slightly exasperated disappointment.

"So it's not that you're having a baby? Or that you shared a forbidden moment of passion with another man whilst William is on leave?" Dorothy asked, the flat tone of her voice making Christina laugh. "Oh, don't laugh Christina, please. I need drama. Excitement. Scandal. There simply isn't enough scandal at the hospital. The most scandalous thing that happened was Matron swearing and shocking the chaplain."

"I'm sorry, Dorothy, but I'm hardly the person to supply you with scandal." Christina smiled, and Dorothy laughed and patted Christina's arm. "But I do have something I could tell you. It's hardly scandalous, but it might catch your interest."

"Oh?" Dorothy perked up.

"It's strictly secret. Your father doesn't know. Neither does William." Christine bit her lip, wondering if Dorothy was really the right person to confide in about her attempts to live what really would be two separate lives at the same time. But Dorothy nodded urgently, encouraging her to go on, and Christina decided it would do no harm to tell someone about her insanity. "The truth is, I'm doing something that William really wouldn't approve of. You remember what I told you about where I lived before William and I came to Kingston?"

"Yes, you said you lived in Essex, in a large house that was dominated by that mad old Uncle of yours, who really didn't like William very much." Dorothy said , and Christina was surprised that Dorothy had ever actually paid that much attention to her in the past. "Mark told me all about it" Ah. That explained Dorothy's unusual attention to detail.

"Yes. Well, understandably William hated the house- Flambards- and he hated the way of life that existed with it. The servants, the hunting, the hierarchy... When Russell died, it all went to Mark, and William said he was glad because he never wanted anything to do with the place ever again." Christina swallowed nervously, seeing that Dorothy looked enthralled. "Well, I have never shared William's opinions. And I've been so lonely without him, and he hasn't even asked for leave...I went back there, to Flambards, and I saw what a state it has become. So now, whenever I can get time off from work at the hotel, I intend to stay at Flambards and help revive it."

"And you haven't told William?" Dorothy asked in a whisper.

"No." Christina said in a small voice. "I can't. He wouldn't understand, he hates the place. So there- that must be scandal, surely. A wife keeping a secret from her husband."

Dorothy nodded, a small feline smile breaking out onto her face, and Christina felt a little wary. She knew that look- she recalled seeing it when Mark had turned up at Sandy and Will's flat out of the blue, which had made Dorothy grin and exclaim delight that Will would have to change his tune and behave a little better if he wanted to keep Christina from being wooed by the charming Mark. That look made Christina squirm, knowing what to expect from it, and she found she was already wincing slightly in anticipation of what Dorothy would say.

"It's not the secret part of the whole tale that interests me, Christina." Dorothy winked at her, her tone implying that there was something more. "You're quite devious when you want to be, aren't you? I must admit, it's the kind of thing I would think of."

"Whatever do you mean, Dorothy?" Christina asked in a cautious voice, mentally going over what she had said and trying to work out what exactly Dorothy was referring to.

"Oh, Christina, you're telling me that you honestly haven't realised that this mission of yours to help Flambards, or whatever it's called, could be a brilliant way of bringing William home from France on leave?" Dorothy asked in a sceptical voice, and Christina felt her mouth drop open in astonishment.

"No of course not!" she exclaimed. "And how would me helping Flambards encourage William to apply for leave? Surely it would only make him angry, and make him want to stay in France and refuse to have anything to do with it?"

"Christina, I can't believe how blind you are." Dorothy rolled her eyes. "Think carefully- you are spending, or will be spending, a lot of time at Flambards, which just so happens to be the home of Mark, your charming, flirtatious, handsome brother in law. There will be no one else there, except you and him. If William knew that, I'd bet he would apply for leave in an instant and practically run all the way home from France."

Christina felt her face heat up, burning scarlet on her cheeks. She had considered, before even deciding to go to Flambards in the first place, that to be taking a lot of interest in the home of your brother in law was hardly the usual practice and that her presence in the area might eventually be noticed and thought odd, but never had she considered what Dorothy was suggesting. The way she phrased it- ! It made her actions seem to be so utterly indecent that Christina shuddered to think it. And the thought of making William jealous and that he might hurry home because his wife might be charmed into the bed of another man in his absence made Christina feel physically sick. She would never want to inflict such a thing on him- she loved him, for goodness sakes!

"Dorothy, no, that is not at all the point. Yes, I'm desperately missing him and I wish he would just apply for leave and come home, but I would never threaten him in such a way." Christina shivered, feeling cold at the thought of such a thing.

"Then there's a high chance you'll rarely ever see him, at least not until the war ends." Dorothy sighed, and stared out of the window at the world that would never be the same again. "You know what he and Sandy were like at Elm Park- they would work all day and most of the night on those dratted aeroplanes, given the choice."

"At least Sandy had the time to take you out and spend some time with you." Christina said pointedly, thinking back to those afternoons at Elm Park, waving Sandy off in his motor car as he went to collect Dorothy and take her shopping or to the cinema.

"True." Dorothy said in a voice that didn't seem mollified by this fact. "But you know, Will working all the time was probably the most romantic gesture of all- I used to wonder why Will always had so much work but somehow Sandy could get the time off, and I asked Sandy once out of curiosity. He said that Will was the sort of man who would always work stupidly hard, a perfectionist, but also he had the added fact that he was working to build some sort of future for the two of you. Sandy always said to me that Will loved having you in the shed with him, talking to him, helping him with the job at hand. So, perversely I suppose, I wish that I'd had a few of those afternoons you had. Will loved his aeroplanes, but he wanted to share it all with you- Sandy and I never did anything as meaningful as that."

Christina immediately thought of all those afternoons, the initial annoyance as she watched Sandy and Dorothy go out together, but also how she had always had such fun with William. They had argued and laughed and teased, drinking cups of cafe tea and passing wood and collecting screws, and Christina recalled with some surprise that most of the embraces and tender kisses had been in that shed, when William's eyes had been sparkling with aeronautical bliss. Perhaps it had been more than just aeronautical bliss, as Dorothy implied- perhaps part of his joy had been having her there to share it with him.

Dorothy had started to talk again, telling stories of her experiences in the hospital, but Christina wasn't listening, not properly. She curled in on herself and tried to stop stupid tears from welling up and spilling over- all this talk of Elm Park, of William, had only made her feel worse. She missed him, so desperately, aching with the need to hug him or hold his hand or even just to hear his voice. It had been far too long without him- she feared that she would start to forget things, like the way his eyes sparkled when he was teasing her, or his odd puzzled expressions, or the exact feeling of his lips on her own.

She wanted to feel again the sensation of waking in the middle of the night and reaching out to find a warm body beside her to curl up against, to hold onto. She wanted to be irritated by him, she wanted to scold him, she wanted him to become exasperated and argue with her- she wanted to be close to him, to be with him. She wanted to feel what it was like again to be a wife- to be with someone you love.

"Christina?" Dorothy asked in a soft voice, making Christina come back to her senses. "You look upset. What is it?"

"I miss him, so much." She replied softly. "And I feel pathetic, because for some women they will never see their husband again because he is dead. Mine is alive, alive and happy as he does what he loves most in the world, and yet I am not happy. I just wish for once he would understand without me having to make it obvious- I wish he was the one missing me, the one to ask for leave without prompt. Even when I prompt him, he still doesn't. I don't know what to do."

Dorothy's eyes immediately lost their gentle concern, and she sat up straight and briskly patted Christina's hand. Christina looked at her warily, knowing that Dorothy's ideas of how to cheer someone up usually involved shopping, flirting and copious amounts of alcohol, none of which had ever truly appealed to her.

"You shouldn't do anything, Christina. At Elm Park you had become such an independent woman but now it's all been knocked out of you by William leaving. You need to stop wallowing in your misery and start living. Even if Will was home, you wouldn't be doing all that much." Dorothy said in a no nonsense tone, fixing Christina with a stern look when she tried to open her mouth and protest to the unfair statement. "There's no point trying to deny it, Christina darling. William is a radical, and isn't one of those men who think women have no mind of their own. He isn't ever going to order you about and tell you what to do- you need to decide those things for yourself."

"So what you're saying is that William would expect that if I wanted to do something, I would just do it, rather than wait around for him to suggest it?" Christina asked in a soft voice, and Dorothy nodded. "Oh. I think I understand now."

Christina had experienced this before, this feeling of humiliation and stupidity for not realising that William was giving her the greatest compliment of all, treating her as an equal to him. If it were Mark, Christina thought a little bitterly, he would think that I was incapable of making any decisions for myself- he would think that I needed to rely on him to do everything. Christina sat up a little straighter in her seat- she was not some weak and feeble woman, she had already demonstrated that. Perhaps Dorothy was right- perhaps what was required was for her to rise to this challenge, to seize the rare opportunity she had by being married to William and do as she pleased.

She should try and be a little more selfish.

The carriage stopped outside the hotel, and before Dorothy could move to open the door and climb out, Christina grabbed her arm. Dorothy turned in surprise, instantly grinning as she saw the look on Christina's face.

"It would seem I have made an impression on you, Christina." Dorothy laughed, gesturing to the doorman outside to wait for a moment. She had such confidence, Christina noted- she was not at all ashamed or worried about causing a fuss or trouble, as she knew what she wanted and she did it. Christina was not prepared to adopt Dorothy's way of thinking entirely, but she could see the allure of acting in such a manner, not caring for anything or anyone more than herself. "So?"

"How long do you have before you're needed to return to France?" Christina asked, excitement building.

"I've taken a week." She replied airily, again gesturing to the doorman to wait.

"Well, I was thinking..." Christina trailed off, grinning suddenly. "We could go into the heart of London, the city, perhaps stay there for a few days. I want to buy some things for Flambards, to really get the place running again. We could go shopping, visit the music halls and the dances and the social meets of the city, and then I could go to Flambards and you could stay in London if you-"

"Oh no, Christina!" Dorothy started to laugh, sounding just as she had when Sandy had taken her up to loop the loop. "If you're going to Flambards, I'm coming with you! After all, there is the chance that your divine brother in law will be there, and I wouldn't miss that for the world!"

"So it's settled- we'll go to the city for a few days, and then to Flambards! If we meet anyone in London, we could invite them back with us, have a party!"

"Yes that's a brilliant idea! I'll just say hello to father, you can collect your things and we'll leave right away!"

They exploded out of the carriage, giggling like school girls and dashing madly into the hotel foyer, Dorothy already calling out to her father in a purposefully exaggerated 'posh' voice, making the guests in the foyer stare in alarm and Christina burst out laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt oddly liberated, as if she had just learned how to stand with her own two feet firmly placed on the ground, nothing to restrict her. Dorothy's ridiculousness was infectious, and when one of the waitresses timidly asked if they were alright, they both began to laugh harder.

The noise brought Mr Saunders rushing in from his office, all set to reprimand whoever was causing such a racket, but when he saw that it was his daughter and Christina a smile broke out onto his face.

"It's so lovely to see the two of you are having a good time together." He commented fondly as Dorothy kissed him on the cheek and patted his arm. "So, what is all the excitement about?"

"We're going to the city centre for a few days, to go shopping and to parties and experience the social life. I thought we might stay with Cousin Alice- she has a huge group of friends, and always gets invited to the best parties. We'll have a brilliant time!" Dorothy explained with great enthusiasm, and although Mr Saunders looked a little disappointed that his daughter would be leaving him again, he was clearly relieved that she was her usual self and would be having a good time. No doubt he was glad that Christina was going with her, to keep her wilder behaviour under control. "We thought that Christina could get her things together and we'll leave right now!"

Mr Saunders nodded, looking suddenly exhausted- Dorothy's behaviour did tend to have a draining effect on people, and Christina usually found herself exhausted by it too, but this time she seemed to have been caught up in the same whirl of excitement as Dorothy and she was loving it. She was already rushing off towards the stairs when Mr Saunders called out.

"Oh, yes, a letter for you Christina! I almost forgot."

Christina took the envelope and did not think about it as she dashed up the stairs and dug around under her bed, dragging out her battered old suitcase and beginning to throw various outfits and necessities in with increasing laughter, wondering what Mary and Fowler would make of Dorothy. Their reaction was bound to be a cause for hilarity.

"Christina!" Dorothy's impatient voice, high with excitement and breaking into reckless laughter, called up the stairs to her dormitory of a bedroom.

"Just a moment!" she called back, remembering the letter and tearing the envelope open carelessly, not wanting to be bothered with boring comments on the weather from Aunt Grace at a time like this.

But the handwriting was not the elegant curl of her Aunts- it was William's.

Christina immediately felt a surge of something cold sweep over her, and she sat heavily down on the bed as if bumped back down to Earth, back to reality. She smoothed out the thin paper, looking at how her careless fingers had torn it in places, and immediately she felt dreadful. She had been so caught up with Dorothy and her recklessness, swept away by the excitement of spontaneity so easily...

'_Dear Christina,_

_I'm just writing to let you know that I've applied for leave and they've given me a week. I've been very lucky to get so long, considering that most lads will only get 2 or 3 day passes at a time, but I think it was wise to wait for a while before asking to go home- they're happy with the work I've done out here, and the officer in charge of all these things slapped me on the back and gave me a huge grin when I asked so I think this is their way of rewarding me. I'll be back in England on the 10__th__ of May, and it won't even take a whole day for me to get to Kingston. _

_An RFC friend of mine says that we can use a little cottage he owns by the sea if we want to, and I thought that might be nice. It's not actually his house, just a little summer home, so we wouldn't be intruding on anyone._

_I hope this is all happening at a convenient time for you. I'd say write and tell me if it isn't, but knowing the army this letter is probably reaching you with only a few days to go and there'll be no time to let me know. But never mind, whatever the circumstances we can work something out._

_I'll see you soon. With love, William.'_

The 10th of May...Christina placed the letter down and stared at her haphazardly packed suitcase, perched on the bed, ready to be taken on a mad trip to London. The 10th of May was tomorrow.

Suddenly Dorothy burst into the room, face flushed with excitement.

"Christina, I thought you said-" she started to say, but then she saw the letter on the bed and Christina's blank expression and her face drained of all colour very quickly, her hands going to her mouth. "Oh dear God, no. Please tell me that isn't a telegram saying that-"

"No!" Christina burst out shakily, as if saying the words aloud would make them actually happen. "Goodness, no. It's just a letter, from William. He's coming home on leave for a week."

"Oh that's wonderful Christina!" Dorothy exclaimed, the ghostly pallor leaving her cheeks. "When is he coming home? And why do you look so odd, Christina? You gave me such a terrible fright!"

Christina picked up the letter again, smoothing it out and folding it neatly, placing it into the messily torn envelope. Stop being such a fool, she told herself harshly, you want William to come home- you've been desperate to see him again! But Christina couldn't shake off the dreadful sensation of disappointment- the annoyance that her revival of Flambards was again being put off. She hated herself for thinking in that way, for being so incredibly selfish and stupid- after all, what was worth more to her; her husband, or the house she had lived in for five years?!

"I don't look odd." She replied in a toneless voice, and Dorothy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "He's coming home tomorrow. The army is dreadful at sending on letters, it seems, so I've only just found out."

"You couldn't have asked for better!" Dorothy exclaimed in delight, taking Christina's hands so she had to stand up, and hugging her tightly. "I'm so happy for you, Christina. So happy that I won't even whine that I now don't have a companion for my trip to London!"

"You're still going?" Christina asked, astonished.

"Of course I'm still going!" Dorothy laughed. "I don't want to hang about in Kingston, watching you and William enjoy marital bliss. I'll go to London and stay with Cousin Alice- Flambards and gorgeous Mark Russell will have to wait until the next time I'm home." She winked, and kissed Christina on the cheek. "Well, I'd best be off. I'll write to you at some point, Christina, if I have the time. It was lovely to see you again."

"Yes. Goodbye, and have fun." She replied and watched Dorothy leave her dormitory bedroom with a sigh.

Christina flopped down onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She thought back to what Dorothy had said earlier, that William had loved sharing his passion for flying with her. He had brought her into that world of flying machines and oily engines, and she had gone along with it and even enjoyed it, for William. She had allowed him to bring what he loved most together so that he could be happy.

"Oh William, if only you could understand. If only you saw Flambards the way I see it. If only you would let me share it with you." she said aloud, hearing how infinitely sad her voice sounded, and at once she realised her problem- because her two greatest loves would not coexist, it came down to a matter of choosing.

And although she would always choose William, and he would always be first in her heart and her life, it didn't mean that losing Flambards was easy. In fact, it was heartbreaking. But the alternative, losing William, would be far worse.

So Christina got up, straightened her hairstyle and went back downstairs to the front desk. Once there, she found the photo that had made Mr Saunders stop and stare with sad eyes- the one of Dorothy and Sandy and her and William all outside the Elm Park cafe. She picked it up, and brought it closer to her face, so that she could look at herself and William, arms linked and faces beaming with huge smiles that looked as if they would never leave their faces.

Soon she would be able to see that smile, and those sparkling black eyes, in person.

The promise of that was far better than a mouldy old house, and always would be, no matter her love for it. William would always come first in her heart, and after hearing Dorothy's words today, Christina had reason to hope that she came first in his, too.

**Sorry that Christina seemed to be having constant mood swings in this chapter- I was trying to demonstrate that her love for Flambards has been reawakened at full strength, to the point she even contemplates over what means more to her, Flambards or William, even though she knows full well that William will always be the most important thing in her life. Even though I love Christina/William cute romance scenes, this story would be pretty boring without some conflict :-)**


End file.
